The Art of Seduction is Not a Task to be Undertaken Lightly
by WhatBecomesOfYou
Summary: Reid wants Morgan, and studies the art of seduction in order to do it. But maybe there's a different way... Morgan/Reid. Oneshot.


Spencer Reid knew the contents of his books inside and out. He knew what they said, even sometimes before the words on the page explicitly stated as such. He knew that they would guide him in the closest direction there was to home that he could have.

So it was a natural fit: when he wanted to learn about the art of seducing someone, he turned to his books. He read everything that he could get his hands on – from the classic stylings of Jane Austen novels, with the dashing gentleman suitor chasing the strong-willed heroine through English manor halls to more modern takes on the dilemma. He half-wondered if there was a way that he could turn the BAU into an English manor, maybe add a little fog and gently rolling hills, anything to make it feel more like the places he read about.

Because it wasn't just any person that he was trying to seduce. It was Morgan. His co-worker. One of his very best friends. Morgan was – the list of adjectives that he could use to describe Morgan was never-ending. He was faithful, honest, trustworthy, incredibly handsome – although that was something that he had never admitted to anyone, at least not out loud, not yet – amiable, self-confident, dynamic, and the list went on from there. It was more a wonder that it had taken him this long to see his teammate and friend in this manner than it was anything else.

Jane Austen wouldn't do, no, not at all – even without the setting being entirely wrong, there was still a sense of archaicness to the whole thing. He doubted that it would work, even if Morgan wasn't Heathcliff or one of Austen's other leading men.

So that was one step down.

He could beat around the bush a little bit, maybe ask Morgan if he wanted to pretend to be his boyfriend, but layering the words with enough sensuality and innuendo that would make it clear – this wasn't a game of pretend, not for very long, at least. It had worked in this one book he'd read, but what worked for one book character wouldn't necessarily work in the real world.

Not that he thought Morgan would say no. And if he did say no, then – oh, he was completely over thinking something that he had already ruled out and should have moved past already. It was a tendency that he had. A very bad tendency, at that.

One could argue that his tendency to do as such was the whole point of how they had ended up here in the first place, because anyone else – anyone else in the entire world – would have just marched up to Morgan and told him how they felt, and let their heart be damned if the consequences fell as they may. Which held a certain romantic appeal, Reid had to admit. But he wasn't the man who was forthright with his actions. He held his actions and emotions at bay and watched as the tide came in and swept them all away.

Which was why he was looking to his trustworthy books to guide the way.

He knew that his analytical mind posed both his greatest asset and his greatest weakness when it came to the art of seduction.

Maybe he should go in the words of Oscar Wilde, and yield to the temptation in order to get rid of it. The temptation being Morgan's body, of course, and he was sure that Morgan was a devoted lover, based on everything he knew about him.

It was just a matter of getting his mind to that point, before anything else.

Maybe there was something to be said for the art of flower arrangements hiding a deeper meaning and the coquettish fan gestures of old, but he was going to wing this, because nothing else felt right than that. By God, he was going to wing it, and hope that he didn't come out looking completely stupid in the end.

Not that Morgan would ever tell him that he looked stupid, even if he did. He would just grin that infuriatingly bright white grin of his and laugh that hearty chortle of his that sent a chill through his spine every time, and he would be in even deeper than he had started.

Crap.

* * *

The first step of his new maneuver was to fully book his non-existent social calendar. Well, he would have more of a social calendar, but when he was constantly on call to deal with the worst dredges of humanity that the United States could offer, it was difficult to set up anything too far in advance. Because there would inevitably be cancellations and disappointment, and this was another reason why Morgan was so attractive to him – Morgan _got_ the life he lived. He didn't find it weird, or off-putting, or anything like that, because he lived the same day-to-day life that he did.

But that didn't mean that he couldn't _pretend_ that he had a bustling social life filled with book signings and other intellectual events to fill in the gaps that traveling to Tuscaloosa or Poughkeepsie left in his schedule...

"Hey, Reid, you want to go out to dinner with us?" Morgan asked. "Hotch said that there's nothing he wants more right now than hot pizza and cold beer, so we're going to the pizza place down the block, if you want to join us."

Reid looked up from the stack of papers sitting on his desk. It had been a long, tough case, but that could describe so many of their cases, that he had begun to lose count. "Uh, can't," he said, darting his eyes back down. "I was planning on going to a book signing tonight downtown. I hoped that we'd be back in town by the time it started, so that I could actually go, and -"

"Oh? What book?"

Reid hadn't expected him to actually take an interest in the books that he pretended to read, so he thought fast. He looked at the newspaper that was sitting on top of his trash can. "Uh, it's about the conspiracy theory that LBJ was responsible for the Kennedy assassination."

"I didn't think you were into conspiracy theories. You're always the one talking about how there's no way that the 9/11 conspiracy people are right, so why this?"

"I -" He was right. Damn it, he was right – add that to the list of adjectives that could be used to describe Morgan. Add perceptive too. "I like to understand where the other side of the story is coming from, even if I don't agree with the viewpoint myself."

"Okay." Morgan sounded a little dubious, but ultimately willing to accept what Reid was saying. "If you say so. But we're going to be there, and there'll be a cold one waiting for you with your name on it, if you come."

He was tempted to break his restraints and go for it. Dinner with Morgan meant being able to do subtle eye cues over the table, maybe allowing his hand to drop onto his shoulder, doing all the gestures that would pass by a less perceptive person. But he supposed that Morgan was trained in his job to notice things – otherwise the criminal would get away, and everything would be for naught. And he didn't want to be the one that got away.

Not this time.

* * *

So the mysteriously-full social calendar was probably not going to stand up to his scrutiny much longer. There were only so many times when Reid could pretend like he was going to another book signing or a lecture by some visiting scientist before things began to get suspicious. Especially when the alternatives were so much more desirable – being that as the alternatives meant time with Morgan. But this thin pamphlet on seduction he had found included a line about a full social calendar creating a mystique around you.

Maybe he was overdoing it. One dinner out with the team wasn't going to be the end of the world for his plan.

They were in a small town in California working a triple homicide that had shaken the whole town to its core, and they were spinning their wheels when it came to even a motive, let alone whodunnit. But even if they were at a complete dead end, they still had to eat sometime, and Morgan looked askance at Reid. "You want to go to the diner and grab a burger? Just you and me."

"Yeah, sure," Reid said, almost brushing the words aside, as if they didn't matter – so what if he was going out and getting a burger with the guy that he was trying to get?

They sat across the booth from each other, Reid taking small bites at his burger, while Morgan had practically devoured half of it before it was even set down on the table. "I never get to see you, except when we're chasing bad guys," Morgan said, dabbing at his face with a napkin. "You're always so busy, with your book signings and lectures and all that, that it feels like I never get to spend any time with you."

"But you do," he protested, but he knew that the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. "We fly all over the country together, doing things on the side of good, and we get to see each other almost every day."

"Not in the ways that are really important," Morgan said. "Here, in Mendocino, this is the first time I've gotten to see you in a really long time. You. Not Super Agent Reid." He reached across the table and closed his hands over top of Reid's.

He had to fight back the first tinges of a blush from coloring his face. "Really?"

"Really. And it's nice, and I wish I could see it more often."

He could only nod in muted reply as he took another bite of his burger and gulped it down in one fluid movement.

Yeah, the social calendar thing was definitely going out the window.

So what next?

* * *

They were on their way back from Mendocino – JJ had fallen asleep in the seat by the window, and Hotch, Blake and Rossi were busy quietly conferring over something to do with the reports for the case, and Reid looked at Morgan, who was staring out at the clouds below them. D.H. Lawrence's words went through his head: "Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot." He felt "genuine passion" stirring in his stomach, and he got up from his seat, sidling in next to Morgan. "Hey," he said.

"Hey, yourself," Morgan said, looking away from the window to look squarely in Reid's face.

It was now or never, and he was beginning to feel like never was the better option. He was _not_ someone who was designed to "woo" anyone. Ever. He bit his lip, feeling it crease beneath his teeth, and he dropped his hand to rest against Morgan's shoulder. Confidence was sexy. That was something else that his stupid little pamphlet had told him, and he felt like that one was more likely to bear actual fruit. "So, we're going home," he said, and he instantly wished that he could take the words back as soon as they left his mouth. They sounded trite, and horrible, and Morgan was going to pull away from his touch at any moment, he just knew it.

Except that Morgan wasn't, and was in fact – unless Reid was hallucinating things, which was entirely possible, a lust-induced hallucination – leaning into his touch ever so slightly. "Yeah. We are," Morgan said. "Got any plans when we get back to DC?"

"Nope, I'm completely free," Reid said. He emboldened his movements and let his fingers drop to trace the contours of Derek's very finely-tuned biceps. His facial expressions, he was sure, were the tale of legend: not letting any trace of wavering through. Well, now that he had stopped biting his lip and had set his mouth in a firm line, at least. "Why?"

"Oh, just wondering." He continued to lean into Reid's touch, almost as if he was soaking up the touch with a single press, even though Reid was doing nothing more than tracing and dancing.

Reid felt his heart flutter. "I – uh – Morgan?" he asked, tripping over his words as they spilled out of his mouth. He only hoped that he wouldn't stutter and ruin the artifice that he was actually confident and self-assured in the ways of love.

"Yeah?" The question was simple, direct, pointed: it went straight to the heart of the matter, without bypassing anything along the way.

It was time for him to say it hot. This wasn't the time for him to beat around the bush and play pretend, and this wasn't the time for him to consent to be flirted with – especially not when he was the one trying to play the flirt here. He was tempted by Morgan, and he wanted to indulge in his temptation, and hope that the edge would never be fully satiated. Which he didn't think that it could be, because every second he spent with Morgan was a tease of what could be between them, and he couldn't imagine a world in which he had ever gotten enough.

"I – this whole thing has been a really stupid thing on my part," he said, as he bowed his head. He couldn't even bear to look Morgan in the eye in that moment. "I heard that if you want a guy, you're supposed to make yourself unavailable. Create an aura of mystique around you."

"What are you – _oh_ -" Morgan asked. He crooked his finger under Reid's chin and lifted it up to face him. "You didn't have to create an 'aura of mystique' around yourself as you just called it, because you're the most – oh my God – Spencer." He stared, unblinking, into Reid's eyes, as he said his first name aloud, which was a balm to Reid's soul in the moment when he wanted it most. "Are you – do you want me?"

"Y-yeah," Reid said, stammering slightly and silently cursing himself for it at the same time. "I thought – I ran through all these ideas in my head, including having you chase me through a foggy field like they do in the gothic romances, and none of them felt quite right. They were all too – well, not me."

"That's because if you wanted me, all you had to do was relax and be yourself," Morgan said. "Because I find you the most – the point is, the answer would have been yes, if you had relaxed and been yourself this whole time."

"And the answer's no." He could accept this. He tried changing who he was, and he had gotten absolutely nothing for it. That was life as Spencer Reid, after all, so he shouldn't be surprised.

Morgan shook his head and never broke the eye contact. "I never said _that_, baby boy," Morgan said. "Because the fact of the matter is, and I know how you like your facts to be in order at all times, I still say yes." He tilted Reid's chin up to greet his face, and Morgan leaned forward and tentatively placed his lips right up against Reid's. "If you say no now, I'll – this never happened."

Reid took the next step and closed the imperceptibly tiny gap between their lips, sealing his lips over Morgan's, answering the question. He hoped that what he lacked in words right now could be made up for by his actions, and the little gasp from Morgan told him that he was doing things right, at least. So that was a step forward. Silent words spoke volumes for them both, as Morgan's hand grasped at the back of Reid's head, carding through his locks and pulling him ever closer.

When they broke the kiss, Reid pushed his hair back from his eyes and stared at Morgan with a new look in his eyes, one of fire that threatened to burn through. He thought of a quote from one of Anais Nin's books, "He was now in that state of fire that she loved. She wanted to be burnt." Replace she with he, and it worked better for his purposes – his purposes being that he wanted to tangle his tongue with Morgan's, feel Morgan over him and inside him and around him and in every possible configuration therein. Any feelings of inferiority, or that this was a really bad idea had all subsided and fallen away, and his heart sang alleluias of praise.

"_Now_ do you have any plans?" Morgan asked, his voice light as he asked the question, which Reid knew hid a deeper truth being asked: are they something definable, and if so, what is that something?

"I was once told that there was a cold one at a pizza place with my name on it," Reid said, "so I'd start there, but only if you come with me to show me which one it is."

"Of course. And then?"

"And then," Reid put his fingers up against his pursed lips and allowed a smile to flit across his face. "And then I think one of us would ask the other back to their apartment, and we'd see how things would go from there." He took Morgan's hand in his and held it, feeling the blood coursing through his veins beneath his touch. He marveled in all that was entangled in this moment – every feeling he had ever had was coming to the surface and blooming in the most marvelous of ways.

"I think you're probably right," Morgan said. "I'm just warning you, my apartment's kind of a mess. Chinese takeout boxes and just – I think your apartment's probably cleaner."

"Okay, then we'd go back to my apartment," Reid said. "And there would be a lot of kissing on my couch."

"A _lot_ of kissing," Morgan agreed. "Kissing's my favorite part. Especially when it's with you."

"We've kissed once," he pointed out. "I didn't know that made me an 'especially' moment yet."

"Oh, it was good enough that I can't wait to do it again," he said, kissing Reid again, lingering against his lips. "And again." This time, it was more of a firm, passionate peck. "And again." His tongue darted out of his mouth and scattered over the course of Reid's lips. "And you get the point."

Reid looked at him as if he was in a daze, just beginning to wake up after being asleep for so long, only to see his Prince Charming sitting next to him with that look in his eyes that threatened to burn his insides whole. "Yeah. I do."

This plane could not land soon enough for him, he thought, as he leaned into Morgan's shoulder and stared out the window – more accurately, he was staring at Morgan through a heavily lidded gaze. He was comfortable here. This was where he belonged.

With Morgan.

-_fini_-


End file.
